Читать книгу Heart Of The Tiger - Lindsay McKenna - Страница 7

Customs at John F. Kennedy airport in New York City jangled Layne’s nerves. She tried to match Matt’s cool demeanor as they inched forward toward the customs inspector, but she fumbled nervously with the passport between her damp hands. What if they guessed she wasn’t Layne Talbot? What if they knew she was a fake? What if—

“Relax,” Matt murmured huskily, and he leaned down, placing a light kiss on her hair. His arm went around Layne’s shoulders, squeezing her reassuringly.

Layne glanced up and cast him a murderous look. “Do you realize what they’ll do to us if they find out that we’re not—”

Matt’s eyes grew tender as he surveyed her flushed features. “My flighty little bird. It’s all right. They won’t suspect a thing unless you tell them.”

“I’m just a case of nerves,” Layne admitted softly. Was this what agents felt like whenever they went undercover? She felt Matt draw her tightly against him, and she released a held breath. Right now, at this very moment, all Layne wanted to do was sink into the protection of his embrace.

“I know. It’ll all be over in a few minutes,” Matt whispered, resting his jaw against the silken threads of her hair. His voice lowered to an intimate growl. “You smell wonderful, lady, like a meadow filled with springtime flowers.”

Layne rested her head against his shoulder, responding to the caress of his voice. A faint smile edged her lips. “You’re a poet, Matt Talbot.”

She felt more than heard his soft laugh. “A poet and a soldier. Do the two fit?”

She raised her chin, melting beneath the warmth lingering in Matt’s eyes. “They must,” Layne murmured, confusion in her tone. “But I don’t understand it. How can you be—”

“Next.”

Matt picked up their luggage and gave Layne a quick smile. He ushered them to the waiting customs official. Before Layne could recover and grow tense again, they had been cleared.

“See,” Matt confided, satisfaction in his voice, “it was over before you knew it.”

“I’m glad,” Layne said, suddenly shaky.

“Layne, talk to me. What’s wrong? You’re trembling like a leaf.” One look into her wounded brown eyes made Matt want to sweep Layne into his arms and hold her close. He gave her a slight shake. “Layne?”

“I—It’s nothing. Nothing, Matt. I’m just not used to all of this…charade.” Layne forced herself not to lean against him. She managed a wan smile of reassurance. “Well, you yourself said I wasn’t cut out for the spy business.”

Troubled by her reaction, Matt pursed his lips. “Come on, I’ll get us checked in on the flight and then get you a drink. That will help you relax.”

The drink did more than settle her down. Layne had barely finished off the Scotch when the boarding for first class was called. By the time they had climbed the spiral staircase up into the “hump” of the jumbo jet, Layne was exhausted. Maybe Matt was right: this constant suspense and secrecy was far more stressful than she had expected. As she pushed her large, comfortable seat into a sleeping position, Layne knew it was more than the mission that was shaking her so.

Her violent reaction was partly the result of her realization that Matt touched her on levels that had never been brought to life within her before. Layne closed her eyes, allowing the anesthetizing power of the liquor to lull her toward sleep. Sleep would be a welcome escape from the unexpected turn her life had suddenly taken. Layne was only vaguely aware that Matt had retrieved a blanket and tucked her in as she snuggled deeper into the padded seat.

* * *

Layne awoke beneath the caress of Matt’s fingers as he lightly stroked tendrils of hair from her brow. Drowsily she forced her heavy lids to open only to find herself drowning in Matt’s azure eyes. Defenses down, Layne nuzzled against his palm now resting against the hollow of her cheek. This stranger invited familiarity.

“Wake up, sleeping beauty,” Matt murmured huskily. “Come on….”

Was this how it would be if they slept together? Layne turned her cheek against his hand, resisting his request. In response, his mouth began to trail small, arousing kisses from her temple to her cheek. His breath was moist against her flesh, and Layne inhaled deeply of his masculine scent.

“Mmm,” she whispered, “you smell so good….”

Against his better judgment, Matt leaned down once more, his mouth finding her full, sleep-softened lips. Touching his lips to hers, Matt gently cajoled her into awakening. He probed each corner of her mouth, tasting her, reveling in her trust. A moan slid from Layne’s throat as he molded his mouth more firmly, parting her lips, stealing the breath from her body and replacing it with the fire of his longing. A small gasp of pleasure from those lips he now plundered fueled his desire, heating the icy core of doubt within him and making him believe in a future for them both. “Sweet,” Matt groaned against her lips, “like honey and flower nectar….”

Layne’s heart pounded wildly, fire racing through her as she drank from his strong, firm mouth. Her world tilted crazily, and she was aware of a fiercely tender man whose voice was thick with passion for her alone.

A marvelous blanket of languor filled her, and a tremulous smile touched her parted, glistening lips. “I’ve never been awakened with a kiss before….”

Matt shared an intimate look with her. “I think I’m going to make a habit of waking you like that,” he told her, a glint in his sky-blue eyes.

Layne blinked again, the magical quality of the moment receding as she became more aware of her surroundings. There were only fifteen reclining beds in the hump of the jumbo jet, and they were the only two people in the area. As Layne sat up, her hair tumbled with carefree abandon across her shoulders. The look of sheer pleasure on Matt’s face brought heat to her cheeks. He had crouched down beside her, his arms resting on the long, corded surface of his thighs.

“W-what time is it?” Layne asked, rubbing her eyes sleepily.

“It’s 10:30 a.m. We’re still over Canada, heading up toward the North Pole before we start the downward leg of our journey.” He roused himself, giving Layne a tender look, and stood.

“Feel like something to eat? The stewardess keeps coming up here to feed us, and I think she’s beginning to feel rejected.”

Layne tipped her plush chair into an upright position, keeping the blanket around her lower body. Matt looked incredibly handsome standing above her, his hands resting on his narrow hips. She warmed beneath his smoldering gaze, still caught up in the evaporating magic of their shared kiss. And it had been a mutual kiss. “Let me wake up first,” she murmured.

“Take your time. I’m going downstairs to get us some juice. It’s always wise to eat lightly and drink plenty of liquids on a long flight like this.”

“Make mine tomato juice.”

Matt gave her a wistful smile. “Did you know how beautiful you are in sleep? Or in waking up?”

Layne’s eyes widened. “I—no…”

Matt walked to the stairs. “Well, you are, kitten. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

Layne shakily got to her feet. She found, to her surprise, that Matt must have taken off her shoes after she’d fallen asleep. She stood and folded the blanket, placing it behind the seat, then retrieved her purse. Still in her stocking feet, she padded to the lavatory. Once there, she splashed her face with cold water, first to wake up, then to try to douse her fiery reaction to Matt’s last words.

Matt had arranged the juice on her chair tray when she emerged. Layne had deliberately taken her time in order to still her trembling fingers and racing heart. She had stared darkly at herself in the small mirror, giving herself a good lecture: He’s an agent, Layne. Never forget that! He’s used to using people. He has a talent for getting people like you to do what he wants.

“You look a little more awake,” Matt greeted her, sitting down in his recliner, which paralleled hers.

Layne grimaced and sat down. “I look better, you mean?” Nervously she slid the cool glass into her fingers, taking a sip of the tomato juice.

“No, lady, you couldn’t look better. You’re pretty in or out of sleep,” Matt assured her.

She gulped the juice, almost choking on it. Licking her lips of the salty liquid, Layne slid him a disgruntled glare. “Are you always so complimentary? Or does that go with the territory?”

Matt scowled. “I was being honest, Layne. Since when does honesty only come with certain territories?”

Gripping the tumbler, Layne stared down at it. “Brad once told me that sometimes when he lived a lie for very long, it became the truth for him,” she whispered. “He said it was that way for any operative who was undercover.” Lifting her head, Layne stared at Matt. “Yes, I question your compliments.”

Matt gauged the hurt mirrored in her eyes. How could he say, Look, you do something to me, Layne. I’m not sure what it is yet; all I know is that you make me feel like living and feeling again? If he admitted the truth, she would find it too hard to accept and call him a liar. Instead, he said, “I told you when we started this that there would be no lies between us, Layne. I’m keeping my word.”

There was a hint of apology in her husky voice. “And if I ask you about yourself? Would you still be honest?”

Matt nodded. “I’ll tell you what I can.” And then a brief smile eased his stern features. “Is this twenty questions?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know. I don’t even know why I want to know about you. You’re an agent.”

“I’m a human being first, Layne, a damn good test pilot second and a part-time agent third. But those last two are my vocations. They’re not the whole of me. Just like being a professor of Chinese doesn’t say who all of Layne Hamilton is.”

Layne relaxed beneath the timbre of his voice. “I’ll agree with you there up to a point. But Brad was the Company. His personality and vocation were identical. You couldn’t separate one from the other.”

“Tell me something, Layne. Did you ever mix with other Company wives or their families?”

She shook her head. “No. I have my academic circle of friends. Brad made it very clear that he didn’t wish to mingle with anyone else—my friends or the Company people.”

“He was a loner?”

Layne finished off the tomato juice, setting it on the tray. She pulled her legs up and placed her arms around her knees, then, resting her head against them, watched Matt through half-closed eyes. “Yes, he was a loner.”

“No friends?”

“Brad never felt the need for any. He was totally self-sufficient.” Layne grimaced. “Unlike me, who needed the help from family members and support from friends that he disdained as a sign of weakness.”

Matt’s eyes narrowed slightly. “So he never encouraged you to become part of the Company’s family support system?”

“A support system?” she scoffed. “Come on!”

“The Company encourages spouses to take schooling with the employees and generally helps the wives and families cope whenever possible. In one way, the Company resembles military family living and has a similar plan to that of the services.”

Layne looked at him in disbelief. So often the men in the military were away on duty and the wives had no one to turn to but one another. And if something needed to be repaired, the wife usually ended up fixing it. The lonely days, weeks and even months without a husband around to complete the family existence were eased by sharing with other military families in similar circumstances. “I doubt that.”

“Well, it’s a reality,” Matt countered.

“Brad never mentioned it.”

“He never brought home the newsletter that’s circulated monthly to show events that families can participate in?”

Some of her initial disbelief dissolved. “No….”

“Each area has a newsletter, Layne. There’s a human resource division within the Company concerned with the family of the employee. But if Brad didn’t have that newsletter sent to you, how could you know?”

Layne gave him a guarded look. “What are you trying to do? Soften my opinion of them? Or of you?”

“No. I just want to make you aware of some facts so that you can make a decision based upon more evidence than what you already have. You seem to have gotten everything through Brad—whatever he fed you, you swallowed.”

Anger stirred in Layne. “That’s right, I did. For five miserable years. One can of lies after another.”

Matt reached out, resting his hand lightly on her arm. “Brainwashing comes in many subtle forms, Layne. I met Brad Carson a couple of times. And I can tell you with great assuredness that he was unique among operatives.”

“Meaning?”

Matt didn’t wince at the tightness he heard in her voice. “Meaning he wasn’t like most of us. Listen to me, Layne. Brad lived in his own world of fantasies. He acted them out. He had one foot in the cold, harsh reality of spying and the other in his dreamworld. And because of that, Brad didn’t need any friends or—” he shrugged apologetically “—a family.”

Layne felt Matt’s fingers burning into her flesh. “After Brad was killed, I had an emotional breakdown.” Her voice quavered with the difficulty of dredging up the determinedly buried memories. “I blamed myself for his death. I thought I had caused it by insisting upon going to Hong Kong, to my real home, the Far East. He said he was stressed out and needed to get away. He wanted to go to Nassau and relax.” She struggled, momentarily unable to go on. But one squeeze of Matt’s fingers against her arm gave her the assurance to continue. “I don’t know why I’m telling you this—you’re a stranger…someone I met only days ago….”

“I care, Layne, and you know that. Regardless of what your past conditioning is screaming at you, your instincts are running true. You know I’m interested in your personal safety and welfare on this assignment. And the more I know, the better I can protect you.”

Layne blinked back sudden tears, refusing to meet Matt’s gaze. She pulled her arm from his grasp, burying her face in her hands. “The woman therapist I went to must have listened to twenty hours of my tears, guilt and reaction.”

“And what was her opinion?” Matt asked gently, wanting to reach out and comfort Layne. But right now, he knew she would misinterpret his action.

“That Brad was schizophrenic, living different lives and not being responsible to me or—”

“Or?”

Layne dragged in a deep, anguished breath and then released it. “Or the family I wanted.”

“Children?”

She nodded and wiped the tears from the corners of her eyes. “I love kids. Always wanted at least two of them.” Layne met his warming gaze, melting beneath it.

A gentle smile pulled at his mouth, and Matt reached over, lightly caressing her unruly cloud of black hair. “You’d make a wonderful mother.”

“Thank you,” Layne whispered, blotting her eyes. Then a sudden, disturbing thought struck her. “What does your wife think about your double life as pilot and agent?”

“Jenny never knew I was working for the Company.”

Layne’s chin tilted. She heard carefully shielded pain in his voice. “You sound as if…I mean, are you divorced or something?” He had stated it as if she were a part of his past.

Matt tore his gaze from her concerned expression. His mouth tightened. “Jenny died three years ago from leukemia, Layne.” Three years. Some days it felt like three months ago; others, three lifetimes.

Automatically, Layne reached out, her hand resting on his forearm. “I’m sorry…I had no right to pry.”

Matt lifted his chin, giving her a slight smile meant to reassure her. “With you, I don’t mind talking about it. Jenny and I shared six wonderful years together. We had a good marriage. She was a good woman.”

And you’re a good man, Layne added silently. Her heart wrenched in her breast as she saw the pensiveness in Matt’s features. Her fingers closed comfortingly on his arm.

“At least you had six years of happiness, Matt,” she whispered. “Most of the people in this world would give anything to have what you shared with Jenny.” Layne removed her hand and gave him a rueful shake of her head. “I’d have given a lot to have one day of that kind of happiness in my five years of marriage.”

Matt roused himself. “Hey, we’re getting maudlin, kitten. Come on, let’s get something to eat. There’s something I want to discuss with you before we call it a night.”